#lgbtqia+ poetry

[imnotbitteranymore-imsyrupysweet]

What are friends for? // Boys will be boys, and so much more.

Kiss your blood off my knuckles and I’ll kiss mine from your lips. You have such a way to hate me so kindly, I feel and taste the love pour from your fingertips. Take your time, make sure to make it last. Please, carry it out as long as you can so onto it, we might truly grasp. Or at least a little while longer, because so soon after I miss,  the tender movement of our hips.

Fading into the gray, And I lie to myself and say, ‘It’s fine..’ That, ‘it’s okay’, Going on as we do in this way. Not a day can pass without me wishing for something more though. But you being you and all, I’m afraid to say, all that you don’t know. The feelings I feel written so clear to see, In every time you so much as look at me. But if that had been true, well, I’d hope by now, you would have said so. Part of me wishes I’d just ask, worst you could say is ‘no’. But if that were really the worst-case scenario, I would have done so, long ago. The very worst thing, the thought always inside my head, ringing, that keeps me up at night. It's that, in the end, my doubts which haunt me, might be right. Still, you grant me peace of murky secrets, whispered only ever here, in dead of night. places only we know. where in the dark we glow so hot and bright, like embers lighting our way to a place where everything feels alright. for a while anyways. the love we share only ever here, makes us pure, everclear. What a shame only that it lay here when we go back to lives out there. But oh, how beautiful, more than worth while. If i could never leave this land of death you bring me to, never to the land of living again i would gladly go... For you. Deny my condemned spirit entry back into my body once you’ve killed me tonight, So, this that time, my love.. To stay with you, here, forever, I just might. -- A.K.Rx

(Wanted to just add some quotes too:)

[bugboy-behaviour]

a collection of queer Palestinian stories in Gaza from queering the map.

Don't let pink washing get to your head. Queer people live everywhere, including in Gaza, where they are currently being massacred.

images are from the tiktok link i attached, there's even more there.

[forsapphics]

If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho

translated by Anne Carson

[fickes]

Comments from a Hurt Man

The other day I read the first panel's quote (paraphrased) as a comment from a cis man on a trans man's physical transition.

For some reason, of all the vile things hurled at trans people, this statement in particular stuck with me. It repeated in my head for a week. Probably, it resonated my own fear that cis men see me as a masquerader among them. That they think I don't take it as seriously as my own skin.

So I let the comment rattle around in my skull and out onto paper. Who was this hurt person? Why was he threatened by trans men simply being joyful of their bodies? What more might he say - and what would it really all boil down to in the end?

[milocelium]

while I've been opening up more, allowing myself to be vulnerable and rejecting shame, I still find it extremely difficult, if not impossible, as a chubby trans man, to imagine someone loving me. The lack of media and artistic representation of trans men being loved is not insignificant to this. I cannot name a single book, movie, tv show, song, or other form of media (except visual art such as paintings) that explicitly depicts a trans man experiencing love. If there is clearly a lack of romantic sentiment towards trans men, why should I think I would be privy to such experiences? Why would I look at myself, someone who I am trying so hard not to hate, and think another person could look at me and see someone worth their heart?

[rhythmelia]

Support a translator of color!

This is an ongoing situation as of 2023.06.24.

My friend Yilin (she/they) does a lot (A LOT) of work translating literature from Chinese to English, among other things. And they allowed me to signal boost this on tumblr since she doesn't have one yet.

The beginning of the thread is here: https://twitter.com/yilinwriter/status/1670305203206385665 and all the tweet images below are not described because they are previews of direct links to the tweets.

Key points: The British Museum stole their translation work and used it, uncredited, in a major exhibit where they "appeared in photos on a giant display, on signage, in a physical guide, in a digital guide, in an audio guide, and in an app that is available for international download. How did NO ONE catch there was no credit?"

The response from the British Museum has been enormously disappointing so far:

"we will not be reinstating the translations in the exhibition that have been removed following your complaint, and therefore you will not be acknowledged in the exhibition as your work will not be featured" - except the uncredited translations are still in the 30,000 copies of the exhibition catalog.

Go check out more updates downthread as the situation develops.

Want to support Yilin?

"If you want to write to them or have written to the BM, you can help convey these demands of mine to them: - credit + public apology everywhere the work appears - proper payment (increased to account for lack of prior permission given & all the time the work was uncredited)"

Boost Yilin's book! "The Lantern & the Night Moths, an anthology of Chinese poetry that I selected & translated, featuring poets incl. Qiu Jin, accompanied by my essays on translation, forthcoming w/ @/invisibooks in Spring 2024"

Yilin's page: https://yilinwang.com/book-announcement-the-lantern-and-the-night-moths/

and the pre-order link: https://invisiblepublishing.com/product/the-lantern-and-the-night-moths/

I'll try to update as more things happen, or you can go camp out on the thread.

Edit: please reblog the most current update here from 2023.07.05:

[wakingbreathlessly]

canine poetry will do it for me every single time

[queerism1969]

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

i broke so here's from crowley to his angel

I danced through all the fires, and I was so free

I was so unfettered, I was so unheld

Angel, I only stumble when you look at me

Why won't you touch me with more than eyes

Do more with your lips than just smile

It's only for you that I would ever plead

Angel, don't ask me to follow you to heaven

I don't need your forgiveness, I need your love

I don't need them to save me from damnation

Because when I fell from heaven I fell for you

And if you'll just for once try to understand

You've tempted the tempter and stolen the thief

So when after thousands of years I find the courage

To reach for you, to hold you to my dark heart

Forget the world that came between you and me

Don't choose to save it, choose to save us

The world will end in fire or ice, heaven or hell

But all that will matter is that we could have been us

So when they ask you to leave for heaven

Don't walk away, promise you're staying with me

Angel, tell me you said no

-Asmi

@neil-gaiman expecting that therapy money any day now, sir.

[hussyknee]

Abu al-Faraj al-Isfahani’s Kitab al-Aghani records the lives of a number of individuals including one named Tuways who lived during the last years of Muhammad and the reigns of the early Muslim dynasties. Tuways was mukhannathun: those who were born as men, but who presented as female. They are described by al-Isfahani as wearing bangles, decorating their hands with henna, and wearing feminine clothing. One mukhannathun, Hit, was even in the household of the Prophet Muhammad. Tuways earned a reputation as a musician, performing for clients and even for Muslim rulers. When Yahya ibn al-Hakam was appointed as governor, Tuways joined in the celebration wearing ostentatious garb and cosmetics. When asked by the governor if he were Muslim Tuways affirmed his belief, proclaiming the declaration of faith and saying that he observes the fast of Ramadan and the five daily prayers. In other words, al-Isfahani, who recorded the life of a number of mukhannathun like Tuways, saw no contradiction between his gender expression and his Muslimness. From al-Isfahani we read of al-Dalal, ibn Surayj, and al-Gharid—all mukhannathun—who lived rich lives in early Muslim societies. Notably absent from al-Isfahani’s records is any state-sanctioned persecution. Instead, the mukhannathun are an accepted part of society.

...

Far from isolated cases, across Islamic history—from North Africa to South Asia—we see widespread acceptance of gender nonconforming and queer individuals. - Later in the Ottoman Empire, there were the köçek who were men who wore women’s clothing and performed at festivals. Formally trained in dance and percussion instruments, the köçek were an important part of social functions. A similar practice was found in Egypt. The khawal were male dancers who presented as female, wearing dresses, make up, and henna. Like their Ottoman counterparts, they performed at social events.

- In South Asia, the hijra were and are third-sex individuals. The term is used for intersex people as well as transgender women. Hijra are attested to among the earliest Muslim societies of South Asia where, according to Nalini Iyer, they were often guardians of the household and even held office as advisors.

- In Iraq, the mustarjil are born female, but present as men. In Wilfred Thesiger’s The Marsh Arabs the guide, Amara explains, “A mustarjil is born a woman. She cannot help that; but she has the heart of a man, so she lives like a man.” When asked if the mustarjil are accepted, Amara replies “Certainly. We eat with her and she may sit in the mudhif.” Amara goes on to describe how mustarjil have sex with women.

...

Historian Indira Gesink analyzed 41 medical and juristic sources between the 8th and 18th centuries and discovered that the discourse of a “binary sex” was an anachronistic projection backwards. Gesink points out in one of the earliest lexicography by the 8th century al-Khalil ibn Ahmad that he suggests addressing a male-presenting intersex person as ya khunathu and a female-presenting intersex person as ya khanathi while addressing an effeminate man as ya khunathatu. This suggests a clear recognition of a spectrum of sex and gender expression and a desire to address someone respectfully based on how they presented.

Tolerance of gender ambiguity and non-conformity in Islamic cultures went hand-in-hand with broader acceptance of homoeroticism. Texts like Ali ibn Nasir al-Katib’s Jawami al-Ladhdha, Abu al-Faraj al-Isfahani’s Kitab al-Aghani, and the Tunisian, Ahmad al-Tifashi’s Nuz’ha al-‘Albab attest to the widespread acceptance of same-sex desire as natural. Homoeroticism is a common element in much of Persian and Arabic poetry where youthful males are often the object of desire. From Abu Nuwas to Rumi, from ibn Ammar to Amir Khusraw, some of the Islamic world’s greatest poets were composing verses for their male lovers. Queer love was openly vaunted by poets. One, Ibn Nasr, immortalizes the love between two Arab lesbians Hind al Nu’man and al-Zarqa by writing:

“Oh Hind, you are truer to your word than men. Oh, the differences between your loyalty and theirs.”

...

Acceptance of same-sex desire and gender non-conformity was the hallmark of Islamic societies to such a degree that European travelers consistently remarked derisively on it. In the 19th century, Edward Lane wrote of the khawal: “They are Muslims and natives of Egypt. As they personate women, their dances are exactly of the same description as those of the ghawazee; and are, in like manner, accompanied by the sound of castanets.”

A similarly scandalized CS Sonnini writes of Muslim homoerotic culture:

“The inconceivable appetite which dishonored the Greeks and the Persians of antiquity, constitute the delight, or to use a juster term, the infamy of the Egyptians. It is not for women that their ditties are composed: it is not on them that tender caresses are lavished; far different objects inflame them.”

In his travels in the 19th century, James Silk Buckingham encounters an Afghan dervish shedding tears for parting with his male lover. The dervish, Ismael, is astonished to find how rare same-sex love was in Europe. Buckingham reports the deep love between Ismael and his lover quoting, “though they were still two bodies, they became one soul.”

...

Today, vocal Muslim critics of LGBTQ+ rights often accuse gay and queer people of imposing a “Western” concept or forcing Islam to adjust to “Western values” failing to grasp the irony of the claim: the shift in the 19th and 20th century was precisely an alignment with colonial values over older Islamic ones, all of which led to legal criminalization. In fact, the common feature among nations with anti-LGBTQ+ legislation isn’t Islam, but rather colonial law.

Don't talk to me I'm weeping. I'm not Muslim, but the grief of colonization runs in the blood of every Global South person. Dicovering these is like finding our lost treasures among plundered ruins.

Queer folk have always, always been here; we have always been inextricable, shining golden threads in the tapestry of human history. To erase and condemn us is to continue using the scalpel of colonizers in the mutilation and betrayal of our own heritage.

[hyacinthnova]

Yea you might think he's hot but if I could travel back in time I would seek out the most skilled sculptors of their time and have them capture his beauty in marble for his ethereal allure to be displayed in museums for decades to come. We are not the same.

[imnotbitteranymore-imsyrupysweet]

What Pride feels like to me.

lonely, dark, and heavy. hopeless humanity is all i can see through tear-filled vision, with no hope of ever living for me fully.

claustrophobic, agoraphobic and getting worse with every joke or post i see that’s homo/transphobic.

i’m scared to go to pride for mass shootings or bombings, so i think i’ll push myself past it but as i tell my parent i love them to get ready to go i’m suddenly overcome with the fear of everything. i swallow down my tears for moments more - turning back from the door, give excuses as to why that don’t force forth the cry. so i don’t sound dramatic when i say i was just afraid id die.

but i see it in their eyes too, i feel it in the tension of the room and the forced positivity for the rainbow under such clouds of gloom. they were just as scared, they just want me to be safe. Like any parent should want, right? their baby not to be scared to walk, day or night, that they don’t have to hide and could go outside the house as themselves without landing them in a life-or-death fight.

but the world is a scary place. but what they don’t get, see, or feel for me is, one less chance turns into yet another year of fear. another year of me, alone, crying in the very bedroom of my childhood home that i learned it all in. every single piece of me that i turned over in my tiny hands. the very ones i clasped every night praying it away, along with any people showing kindness of saying that who i was was okay.

the very bed sheets i muffled those cries into. the ones i bunched up to feel like i knew what it felt like holding someone in the night, too.

i wish sometimes to wring them thin, i have but not like this - i want to drain them of every tear. i want each and every one of them back. every drop of heartache, silent shatters for others hearts sake, every ounce of blood sweet and tears that it has come to collect.

i’m not sure why, or what i’d do with it.

perhaps, i could bottle it, and then see - see all those years of pain in silence, wasted, behind me.

maybe that’s it, maybe then i could move on from what haunts me. if i could just see it, make all of that hurt something physical to show me, validate me in all of it so i could let go of any of this.

i keep thinking i have and then im right back.. here. i still dress certain ways and am afraid of my natural ways. don’t be too loud, don’t draw attention, deepen you voice, talk proper non of that girly shit, walk straight, talk straight.

to be hyperaware of every aspect of myself even for the only thing i really leave the house for, walking my dog, is tearing away any bit of mental health i build. i thought- god, i don't know what i thought.

i guess i thought i’d never be back here. that by now, i would be in a place, at least of mind, where i was free to be me. but still i look in the mirror and so rarely just see me. rather, accompanying, always it seems, is every glare, every passing remark, every lonely day at school choosing that over getting made fun of or letting someone close enough, every time i averted my eyes, instead, looking to the ground when passing anyone in this god forsaken town. --------------

(sort of separate/i wrote this portion below, first, then once i started crying at the end of this i went back up and wrote all that.. so.. yeah. i feel a bit better now though) 

every time this month comes along all i can see are the thumbs downs out weighing the likes of articles for us

 i feel like a whale strung through with a harpoon they cruelly tie weights to once i’ve enough blows to fashion rope around.

i try, i really try, every year, if i’m honest, almost every second of the day to embrace myself and let go of all their hate. i try to focus on the love and the ones out there that accept us... but at the end, i always end up feeling that crushing feeling of hates weight, pulling down on me.

i want to be proud of who i am and exactly as i was made. how i am when i let go of the hateful, close-minded people out there and focus on only the peace i come to make in here. but i end up hunched over even alone, it comes infectious, seeping into my home. and again, i find myself hating who i am because even if i love me and they hate me, and i’m fine with that, but what gets me every time is the hate that others receive greater than mine, because i hide away. i’m a quiet gay, you could say.

i can go around and be just fine for the most part, but on those off days that i come to feel so comfortable in myself exactly as i’m made and i want to dare to wear something fashionable in a more fun way, i instantly wonder if i will be okay. if i’ll make it home or if someone will hit me, kill me, abduct me and release all their hate unto me rather than just through the violently, hateful words.

i don’t get it, i never will. i’ve been on both sides, explored so many faiths and philosophies to see everything from every angle, but i still will never understand why some people choose to hate, to hate another human that is merely loving, loving another human or themselves.

to love this self that you say is created in gods image, and whom this god loves so dearly that he killed his only son for. just like you, he loves us in our sin. if you must call our love this.

but, let me just say this. as much as it hurts, i gladly will die and i cry in my sin of true love. i just hope you one day can see that you will die in your sin of hate if you don’t reflect and change your ways.

my heart, overcome with love for all humans exactly as they are in their good and bad, makes me weep, it always has. and i don’t pray, least not in that way, but i do pray that i keep hold of this, this heart, as soft as a baby birds despite all the hate it gets. and i pray that yours too may soften, and actually hear the truth that sings throughout all of time and space; that, above all we should love, and as challenging as it may be, everyone from you to me, that is the whole human race should love no matter what they face. it’s terribly hard but i am grateful for all that i’ve gone through thus far for it has made my heart grow, my mind too, in order to love all humans the way in which i do. i only pray, or wish whatever suits you, that you receive this grace too.

(It seems, pride is still fear. And that i don't know any other way to be)

[qpr-love]

[fickes]

insecurities and realities for a transman in the dating world

[oracleandbone]

She appeared to me Like a flower on the cliffside A single stalk rooted on hard soil Swaying precariously to and fro And yet above the windy bluffs She blooms in spring Faithfully As the sun sets Today marks the fourth year anniversary of A Summer’s End release. We’re celebrating with a weeklong sale starting at 10:00 PST on Steam and itch. We’ve also made a new post on our website to share about the current development progress of our next game project, In the Ocean I Learned to Float. We appreciate everyone’s support and we hope you look forward to future updates!

[dutifullynuttycollector]

They say, distance and time will make you

Ache for the comfort of a home, of a hand last touched, of eyes last seen.

I know, I can't go back and get more time

Watch him grow bigger, watch him grow stronger, watch as he dreams.

All I know is this

I've traveled through the fray, and through the storm

To get back here to you, I know I've torn

My heart and yours.

I ask that you would forgive me, for every minute I was away.

Every dusk that came,

and I failed to meet you, for every kiss I missed

I can only ask you this,

Close your eyes, but please don't pretend

And say " you could fall in love with me again".

-Mr. Leguens Appthecary Diaries